


Blaze

by suckmykiss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: After Season 7, F/M, Hot Sex, Kidnapping, Made up from there, Men of Letters, Men of Letters Bunker, Oracles, Past Relationship(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:38:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6048405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suckmykiss/pseuds/suckmykiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Reader is a main character in Supernatural. You're a powerful oracle who has been gifted with spiritual perceptions and unique abilities. You left the eye of the public years ago to live your life in seclusion. You have no intention on returning, that is, until old pals Sam and Dean Winchester come looking for your help. </p><p>Help the Winchesters in their search for the 3 tablets and beware your every step, you never know what monsters are lurking around the corner.</p><p>Starts after season 7 finale. It's my own plot from there. I don't own anything from Supernatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of it All

Blood rushing to your head.

Air being sucked from your lungs.

Eyes fluttering upward to the sky. 

You hold still. You brace yourself, but not in a tense apprehension. You prepare your body for the message you are about to receive. You are open: open mind, open body. 

You're listening. You're watching with your eyes closed. They're speaking to you now; they're telling you another story. 

You see a man about six feet tall. He has sandy-colored hair, hazel-green eyes, and the kind of dimples that make a girl stare. He's smiling, but it looks far from sincere. His hands are balled into fists at his sides and his jaw clenches. You notice his blood stained clothes; its excessive. There's no way that can be from one person. There is blood everywhere.

Suddenly, he is coming at you. His fist is flying towards your face but it stops short. It smacks square across the face of another man. You see him now. He's been in the room the whole time. He has brown, shoulder length hair and green eyes. He's been severely beaten and looks a couple heart beats short of death. 

Another fist collides with his jaw and the smack echoes. It's haunting. Your heart is beginning to pump harder against your chest. Another punch after another punch sends your stomach reeling; you feel so nauseous. Finally, the hazel eyed man stops.

He takes a deep breath and sighs. He pulls a dagger out from the pocket inside his jacket.

"Sammy, I've waited so long for this day."

With that, the man plunges the dagger into the long, brown haired man's heart. A choked groan escapes his lips before he slumps forward; motionless. The dagger is yanked from his chest. 

You jolt back into your body and fall forward in your seated position on the ground. You're sweating profusely and you feel like you can't breathe. It's taking longer than usual for your senses to return. You have just witnessed a most gruesome tradegy, so powerful, you're afraid to understand why you've received it. 

You work on calming yourself down and listen to the sound of your heart. Listening until the beats are even and strong. You open your eyes and wipe some of the sweat from your forehead.

Though you feel your balance back in tune, you can't shake the memories of that scene from your head.

Blood. 

Hate.

Betrayal.

You have to do something. This prophecy can't possibly be true. You run to your desk and begin plowing through the drawers. Papers fly behind you, pens and pencils fall to the floor, and finally you find what your looking for: your little black contacts book. It was time to make some calls. You grab your phone to start punching in the first number, but you drop it and look up. 

Your doorbell is ringing and a knock is sounding at your front door. Your heart stops.


	2. Colorado Cottage

Your heart is frozen in your chest. You've been off the grid for ten years now. Ten years. No one should know about your hideout. 

No one. 

The knocking on the door turns to pounding and you snap your body into action. It's time to hide. You run to your room and click the lock as quietly as you can behind you. You hear your front door bust open. 

An enhanced vision takes over your senses and your eyes scan the room for the best place to hide. You decide the only thing you can do is crawl under the bed. There is no other choice. Your bedroom is barely big enough for more than that and desk. You'd chosen the small house in Colorado for its secluded and inconspicuous properties, not its size. 

You lay yourself flat on the floor and cover your mouth. You can hear them in your house. It sounds like there are several sets of footsteps. You listen closely, trying to pinpoint where they are in the tiny cottage.

It doesn't take long until someone finds your room. They enter slowly. There are two of them. You hold in your last breath but you feel like they can hear your heart beating against the floor. It's becoming more difficult to control your nerves. 

Each set of boots travel to either side of the bed. You're focusing on the feet to your right when you're grabbed from under the bed. You're pulled up by a pair of strong hands. You thrash back and forth but the pair of hands are trying to hold you down. 

"Y/n! Stop! It's the Winchesters!" 

You know that voice, but it can't possibly be. But you look up and it's true. There, he stands, before you: dark green button up, brown leather jacket, and signature dark jeans.

"Y/n! It's me, it's Dean!"

You stop your struggling and the hands let go as you calm down. You catch a glimpse of Sam's familiar brown locks out of the corner of your eye. You hold your hand to your heart, relieved. Their auras are their own, no possessed version of them or crazy monster pretending to be the Wincheters. It's actually them. You release the breath you've been holding. 

"Did you have to break down my door?" You place your hands on your hips. They exchange goofy, apologetic looks. 

"Yeah, sorry about that." Dean scratches the back of his head. "Thought you might be in trouble."

His voice is exactly how you remember: intoxicatingly sultry and smooth like smoke. 

"Is trouble searching for me?" 

You lead the men out of your bedroom to the living room and adjoining open kitchen. You grab them each a beer and they graciously accept. You all gather around the coffee table. They sit on the couch across from yours. 

"So, what are you guys doing here?" You ask once they've taken a few sips of beer and a few bites of food. You always keep snacks on the coffee table. 

"What do you know about leviathan?" Sam leans forward skipping right to it, soft green eyes following your every move.

"The monsters who run purgatory?" Your brows crinkle when you look at him. "I've seen a few of their stories, but nothing too informational. Nasty little creatures."

"That's not exactly how I would describe them. But yeah, nasty fuckers." Dean swishes more beer passed his lips. You look at him now, wide eyed.

"You've met one?" 

"Met one? We've spent the last year hunting them down and trying to send their asses back to purgatory. How do you not know that?" Dean is now the one who looks confused. He and Sam look at you like you've missed the obvious. 

"Guys, I have been out of the loop from most of the world for almost a decade now. It's like bad cell reception out here, I can't hear their stories clearly anymore. That's actually why I moved out here." You feel like you've betrayed them somehow, like you've abandoned a promise you made long ago. But you have nothing to feel ashamed of, though you're letting this newfound guilt take over.

"I'm sorry, it's just, things became difficult for me." Your eyes travel away from Dean's and you look away, fighting back the tears that begged to spill out. You weren't going to let yourself get too emotional. 

"It's okay, y/n. We understand why you did what you did. We're not here about that." Sam's voice is as soothing and comforting as the first time you heard it. "We're here because you're in danger. We've got a lot to catch you up on, but for now you've got to trust us. You're not safe here." 

"He's right." Dean chimes in. You look at them again. 

"And where am I supposed to go?" Your head hurts just thinking about it. So many messages, so many endless thoughts outside of this sanctuary. It had all become too emotionally overbearing and overwhelming for you to handle.

"We have a safe place for you to stay. And it's also off the grid. You never have to leave it if you don't want to. You can stay as long as you like." Dean places his empty beer bottle on the table and gives you a smile. You arch your brow and tilt you head. 

"Peachy. Sounds like shit." You stand up from the couch and pour yourself a double shot of whisky. You suck the sweet gasoline down your throat. 

"I feel like being around you two puts me in more danger not less." You rub your temples and pour another double quickly. 

"Y/n, can you stop being stubborn and help yourself out for once?" Dean groans, his gruff voice laced with agitation.

You spin around and lean against the bar. Your about to counter with a nasty remark and then you remember the last message you received. Dean standing over his dead brother with the bloody murder weapon in his hand. You hadn't had a vision that strong in years. You knew it must be a powerful prophecy. It had to be stopped. 

"Give me thirty to pack my stuff?" You gulp the other shot down your throat and set the glass on the counter. Dean nods his head with a solemn expression and Sam is similar behind him. 

You walk back to your room amd begin packing what you can. You're nervous about leaving your home, it's kept you safe from outside influence for so long; you've forgotten what it's like to live among other people. 

The suffering. 

The betrayal.

The disloyalty. 

Humans were constantly overstocked on anxiety ridden and painful emotions. You've rarely found auras of those with complete and utter understanding and acceptance.

You're not sure you can do this and you're starting to have second thoughts. You look at your suitcase and then your open window. What ever you decide, you're going to have to choose. 

Quick.


End file.
